


Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

by cloverdose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alcohol, Blow Jobs, Cheating, M/M, Party, Past Relationships, Ryden, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7021057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloverdose/pseuds/cloverdose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon wakes up with Ryan Ross in his bed, having drank too much the night before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

**Author's Note:**

> This started off based on the song then I just kind of turned it into it's own thing, I guess? (And has no ties with the video, this was finished before the video was released I was just lazy about uploading it).

Brendon woke up, well was woken up, by the beaming Los Angeles sunrise at whatever the fuck o’clock in the morning. His eyes didn’t want to open, hell, Brendon didn’t even want to be awake. His head was throbbing and he knew as soon as he sat up, Brendon would feel whatever contents that was consumed the night before in his stomach. But fuck, he needed a cigarette and about an entire pot of coffee.   
The musician toughed it out and opened his eyes, which was way harder than he thought it would be. Step two, he sat up quickly, probably too quickly because he already felt his stomach roll. He might have to vomit before even getting the cigarette.   
Then he felt the movement of someone next to him. And of course, Sarah was out of fucking town. Brendon didn’t want to pull up the covers. He didn’t want to admit that to himself just yet. He wasn’t even sure he wanted flashbacks of last night. He wanted to vomit then smoke, then lay down and die. In his bed. Alone. Not with the mystery person lying next to him. Brendon sighed. Please be Pete Wentz. Brendon lifted up the sheet.   
It took a moment before Brendon almost puked on himself there in the fucking bed.   
Ryan Ross was passed out next to Brendon. In Brendon’s bed, at Brendon’s house.   
He really, really needed that cigarette.   
The singer ran to the bathroom, hoping he didn’t wake up the former Panic! member. Splashing cold water on his face and waving through the dizziness, Brendon was only 75% convinced this wasn’t a nightmare. He peed, threw on whatever pair of pants lying on the floor of his room and snuck out of the bedroom, leaving Ryan Ross still sleeping in his fucking bed.   
Brendon walked into his living room, instantly regretting not putting on a shirt. There were about seven people passed out on various types of furniture in his living room. Fuck. Brendon went through the faces at this spot in the hallway, happy to recognize Pete Wentz.   
The younger man walked over to the sleeping bassist, hitting him awake.   
“We have a situation,” was all Brendon said before grabbing the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table and walking out the back door.   
He was two hits of the cigarette in when Pete Wentz walked outside. His hair was messy and he looked about as bad as Brendon felt. Pete motioned for the pack which Brendon handed to him, not before stating. “I thought you quit.”   
Pete shrugged, lighting the cigarette anyway. “What happened?” He asked, his voice was hoarse and he coughed after inhaling.   
Brendon took a long drag. Pete’s eyes stayed on the frontman.   
“Fucking Ryan Ross is in my bed.”   
Pete Wentz choked.   
“You’re joking, right?” He asked after recovering. Brendon just shook his head.  
“Unless this is still part of some nightmare, I don’t think so.”   
Pete took another hit without actually inhaling.   
“Did you guys-?”   
“I don’t know.” Brendon cut him off. Which was true, he didn’t. His memory went fuzzy after about the eighth shot of tequila and second joint. Ryan Ross wasn’t even fucking there at that point. Brendon turned to Pete. “Did you call him?”   
“Fuck no.” Pete retorted. “Did you?”   
Brendon couldn’t answer that.   
“My phone’s upstairs. In the room currently inhabited by Ryan Ross.” He sighed, taking another puff. Pete mimicked the gesture.   
“I mean, you could always ask him.” Brendon glared. He could’ve punched Pete. He kind of wanted to. This entire party was his idea anyway.

Pete arrived the night before, aiming to congratulate Brendon on the success of the newest album. For what felt like the eighth time that week. Brendon had been getting constant congrats from friends and family. Fans were going crazy, the label, the band, and Brendon’s personal twitter feed was exploding. It was awesome. Sarah had left town the day before to visit family, something Brendon was unable to do because of the week’s success. Pete had shown up with a bottle of something. It might have been the tequila. But a couple shots in they thought it was a good idea to call more people. Then buy champagne. And those people called people. And then brought more booze. Eventually half the record label and distant close personal friends were in Brendon’s house. Surely at some point they were still celebrating Panic!’s success.   
Brendon was still in touch with some of the people from the earlier days of the band. Maybe one of them made the unfortunate mistake of calling Ryan Ross. Brendon couldn’t really be sure. Nothing was getting clearer, either. He finished his cigarette, looking away from Pete. He really didn’t want to confront the man sleeping in his bed. He wanted to do the waking up thing over again, everything even staying the same, or the hangover being worse if it didn’t mean Ryan being in his fucking bed. Pete sighed, putting out the unfinished cigarette.   
“What if we talked to someone else?” Brendon finally stated, turning back to the bassist. Pete shrugged.   
“You’ll have to talk to Ryan, eventually. He is in your bed.” Brendon groaned.   
“What the fuck even happened last night?” The singer asked, rubbing his temples. Pete offered a shrug. Usually he was a little more helpful, but Brendon wasn’t going to say anything more about it. He went back inside, Pete following after.   
Brendon looked around his living room, identifying some of the people asleep on the furniture. Of course twenty one pilots ended up in Los Angeles. Somehow. Brendon didn’t even know they were in the area. Josh Dun was planted on the same couch as Tyler Joseph, eyes half open. The drummer’s eyes met Brendon’s and he nodded. Brendon nodded back. “Get up” he mouthed to Josh, trying not to wake anyone else. Josh nodded again, allowing himself to get off of the couch without waking up Tyler. Brendon motioned for the younger man to follow him into the kitchen.   
Pete, Josh, and Brendon stood there. Brendon didn’t want to bring this up. Josh didn’t even know the whole story about Brendon and Ryan. But Brendon was a coward, and didn’t want to face Ryan Ross.   
“Do you know how Ryan Ross got here last night?” Brendon asked, breaking the silence. Josh’s eyes widened momentarily. He looked at Pete then back at Brendon.  
“Do you not remember?” He finally asked. Brendon shook his head.   
“I don’t remember most of last night.” Brendon admitted. “Neither does Pete.” Josh halfway smirked, which Brendon glared in response. Does no one get Ryan Ross is in his fucking house? Probably already awake. Brendon wanted to vomit again.   
“Tyler and I got here around ten.” Josh started, talking quietly. “Both you and Pete were sending us weird ass texts so we figured you all were getting shit faced.” Brendon really wished he would’ve thought to bring his phone with him when he ran out of his bedroom. Pete was already on it though, his iPhone in hand as he scrolled through is list of messages.   
“We’re also all over Instagram.” Pete stated, sounding bemused. Brendon turned to him.   
“Not with Ryan though, right?” His voice was panicked. That’s the last thing this needed. Was the Ryden reunion or whatever the fuck. Pete shook his head, handing his phone to Brendon.   
“That’s not my pool.” Brendon commented on the first picture on the screen. Pete started laughing again.   
“Yeah, you guys were next door when we got here.” Josh started speaking again. “Basically a few others were over already, most of them Tyler and I didn’t really know. So you guys got back from next door and we all played drinking games from like high school and shit.” He laughed.   
“Was Ryan there then?” Josh shook his head.   
“No I think Ryan showed up a few hours later, but I don’t know how he got here. Tyler and I actually went to sleep a little bit after that. I think you guys were going on a walk? Someone needed cigarettes, I think.”   
Brendon ran his fingers through his hair. He looked up at Josh. “And me and Ryan?” He flat out asked. But his voice was low. Josh’s eyebrows raised.   
“So you two?”   
“Shut the fuck up.” Brendon cut him off. His skin was crawling. This wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have to own up to. At least not anymore. Pete looked just as tense as Brendon felt. Granted, it wasn’t really a great time for anyone.   
“You and Ryan weren’t any different from how the public has seen you before.” Josh replied. Brendon nodded. He could probably handle that. He took that as harmless. Harmless was okay. Then it hit him that it could mean Ryan would think they’re cool. Or Ryan thinks Brendon thinks they’re cool. Fuck.   
“Do you have any weed?” Brendon asked Josh. The drummer nodded, mumbling about it being somewhere and walking back into the living room. Everyone else would probably be up soon. Brendon turned back to Pete.   
“So what do you think, Wentz?” Pete shrugged, looking back on his phone.   
“I think that this could’ve been worse.” He admitted. Which was true. They could’ve made out and it end up on someone’s snapchat. Or worse, sent to his wife. From a public eye standpoint, this was nominal. Brendon could hear movement and someone talking in the other room. He ignored it, trying to keep his voice quiet. No one else needed to know he was as concerned about Ryan Ross being in his house.   
“But do you think…” Brendon didn’t want to finish the thought. Pete sighed, sensing the other’s agitation.   
“I think shit happens. And if it did,” He shrugged again. “Just, it is what it is, man.” Brendon’s hands were back in his hair, no less stressed than he was when he woke up.   
“I just wish I knew how he got here.”   
“Then you could ask me.” Brendon’s eyes shot up. His body froze. Of course Ryan Ross is fucking awake, and allowing himself into Brendon’s kitchen. Into Brendon’s conversation. Pete was staring, too. There was probably about a full minute of silence as Brendon thought of what to say.   
“Ryan,” was all that came out. Brendon wasn’t smooth. The older man just nodded, walking closer to them. Ryan eye’s seemed to be going back from Brendon to Pete. Brendon felt exposed, still wishing he’d put on a shirt. It wasn’t anything Ryan hadn’t seen before, but it made him that much more uncomfortable. Especially knowing he fell asleep next to Ryan like this. Brendon wanted to scream. Aside from the night before which the singer couldn’t remember, Brendon hadn’t seen Ryan Ross in the better part of two or three years. He’d actually lost track, which was a good thing.   
“Morning, Brendon. Pete.” Ryan was still tall and lanky, but he carried himself better. He didn’t come off as pretentious anymore, Brendon thought he gave off a more leveled vibe. Ryan had also just woken up, making his hair messy. Completely different from how he used to wear it. Brendon wondered if he looked different to Ryan.   
“I take it you don’t remember what happened last night?” Brendon just shook his head. He wanted to yell at Ryan for still being in his house, talking to him in his fucking kitchen. But the guy hadn’t even done anything, not yet at least. Pete stayed surprisingly silent.   
“I don’t remember you being here at all.” Brendon tried to keep his voice leveled. He didn’t want to give away any emotion to Ryan. The taller man nodded.   
“You were pretty fucked up.” He laughed. Brendon glared. The singer was mad Ryan had knowledge he didn’t. He was mad Ryan had something to hold over his head.   
“Care to share, Ross?” He quipped. Losing patience. He could feel Pete stiffen next to him. Brendon didn’t care. They weren’t kids about to throw punches at each other anymore. Brendon just wanted Ryan to tell the story then leave his fucking house.   
“Cigarette?” Ryan asked, motioning towards the door.   
“Just had one.” Brendon remarked. Ryan shrugged, walking that direction anyway. Asshole. Brendon followed, picking up the pack of cigarettes and looking at Pete who just shook his head and wandered off to the living room. Brendon was internally screaming as he accompanied Ryan to the back of his house.   
The older man lit his cigarette first, passing the lighter to Brendon who followed suit. Everything felt too familiar and Brendon remained uncomfortable. He watched Ryan take a few puffs before he started to talk.   
“I got here kind of late, but a lot was still going on.” He started, Brendon’s eyes were focused on Ryan’s mouth moving. He still sounded pretty much the same. Older, but his speech patterns seemed similar. “You and Pete were trashed, and I think wearing skirts.” Brendon inhaled sharply. Some of the night was coming back.   
“I think we thought it was a good idea to go through my wife’s wardrobe.” Brendon admitted laughing. He could recall arguing with Pete which out of the two of them looked better in a skirt.   
“You had heels on when I got here.” Ryan grinned. It was a classic Ryan grin. Brendon was mad at himself for even thinking that. He took another drag. “And I think the party decided Pete won over who looked better in the skirt, but my money was on you.” Brendon scoffed. Ryan was such a flatterer.   
“My ass is better than his anyway.” The night was slowly coming back in Brendon’s mind in chunks. Brendon can remember fighting with Pete, and probably yelling that his ass was better. He remembered seeing Ryan now. Not interacting, but at least Ryan’s presence. That’s a start. He flicked the ash off his cigarette and swallowed. He wasn’t ready to ask Ryan how he got there. Brendon would wait.   
“We did end up taking a walk. We all ran out of cigarettes so we walked a few blocks to a gas station.” Brendon just nodded, he could remember how hot it was last night, because he knew that when they left Brendon was still wearing the skirt. He laughed as he thought about it now.   
“It was just you, me, and Pete, right?” Brendon looked to Ryan, hitting his cigarette again. The other nodded, mimicking Brendon’s action.   
“Yeah, it was kind of awkward. But you guys were trashed. And I was getting there.” Brendon physically gulped. Ryan and Brendon drunk was never a good mix. Or, it was too good of a mix. The younger man didn’t want to look at his former friend, he stared at the ground, letting Ryan continue.   
“A lot of the party died down by the time we got back.” Ryan admitted, Brendon was still looking down. The hand that wasn’t holding his cigarette drummed on his side as he waited.   
“I know you’re anxious, Bren.” The singer looked up, eyes finally meeting Ryan’s for what felt like the first time in years. Well, almost. Brendon could feel the night before flashing back in his mind. “Your hands always shake like that when you’re nervous.” Ryan commented. Brendon wasn’t mad anymore, he could feel the atmosphere shift completely between the two.   
“How did you get here, Ryan?” He finally asked, feeling the cigarette burn in between his fingers. He was twenty years old again, eyes begging for Ryan to respond. For a read on the other man. It should’ve pissed him off. Brendon shouldn’t be asking. He should be telling Ryan to go.   
“I texted you.” Ryan admitted. That wasn’t at all what Brendon was expecting. The singer blinked.   
“What?”   
Ryan took something out of the pocket of his pants, it was a phone. Brendon’s phone. He handed it to him.   
Brendon scrolled through his messages, seeing Ryan’s number, he selected the thread. Only three texts were sent.   
There’s no sunshine? There’s no you and me? Any reason you need to keep clarifying this?   
Brendon read Ryan’s first text at least three times before being able to scroll down. Why did Ryan pick that night to send it?   
Get over yourself Ryan. I’m too drunk for this.  
You at least owe me a drink, then.   
So Ryan just showed up. Brendon didn’t get so stupid drunk he invited his ex over to get back at him. Ryan initiated it. Ryan was the one who came over. Brendon read over the texts again before looking back up at the older man.   
“So you invited yourself over because you’re fucking entitled.” Brendon stated, locking the phone and putting out his cigarette. He was annoyed. The entire freak out was pointless. Ryan was being the same and Brendon still bought it.   
“That was one lyric out of the entire half of the album that was about me.” Ryan retorted. Brendon froze. Of course Ryan’s cocky ass had to show up to Brendon’s impromptu record release party to talk about himself. Brendon wanted to scream in his face, but Ryan would probably get off on it.   
“What do you want me to say, Ryan? That half the goddamn internet, and you yourself think that everything I write has to be about you?” Brendon’s tone was raising despite himself.   
“Don’t try and hide this shit from me, Brendon.” Ryan retorted, his tone matching the singer’s. “You asked why I came here, here’s your fucking answer.” The taller man put out his own cigarette, turning to leave. Brendon wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.   
“Did we fuck?” His hands were still shaking. Ryan turned back around. His face was unreadable. Brendon wasn’t even surprised. He waited for Ryan’s answer.   
“Did you want to?”   
Brendon really, really did not want to answer that. He should be saying no. He should have no trouble telling Ryan of course he did not want to sleep with him and to kindly get the fuck out of his house. And of course, Brendon couldn’t.   
“This isn’t some fucking tour game, Ryan. I’m married, dude. Be fucking straight with me for once in your goddamn life.” Brendon felt like he was pleading. His voice was choked, he wanted to blame it from all the smoking. He knew he couldn’t. Ryan knew Brendon too well, still. After however long it had been. Ryan’s face was still unreadable. He kept his composure, his body language was still neutral. Brendon thought he could crack him. Then again, he was always aiming to with nothing in return.   
“We slept together, but no. We didn’t really have sex.” Ryan answered, his tone calm. Didn’t really stuck in Brendon’s head. They did something, then. Which still was cheating. Brendon sighed, it was heavy. The singer felt defeated. By Ryan Ross. The feeling wasn’t novel, and that’s what upset Brendon more. He didn’t know what to say. His head was still pounding, and now his heart was pounding in his chest because he had no idea what he was going to even say to Sarah.   
Brendon walked past Ryan and into his house. He had nothing more to say to him. Brendon didn’t even want to tell Ryan to leave. He just wanted to be away from the older man. He ignored everyone in his living room, ignored Pete’s hard stare as he walked back up to his bedroom. Maybe if he laid down in his bed, he’d wake up and realize this was a really fucked up dream from way too much alcohol and probably a little cocaine. He flopped onto the sheets, closing his eyes. He could feel his phone buzz in his pocket, probably Pete. He didn’t have anything to say.   
As Brendon laid down, he could recall more and more of the night before. He remembered yelling at Pete about Ryan’s texts.   
“Who the fuck does he think he is?” He yelled at Pete between puffs of a joint. “That mother fucker left the band, if I want to write ambiguous shit I fucking can.” Pete was just nodding, letting Brendon vent. He could remember someone telling him Ryan Ross was at his house. He was too high to be mad at that point. Brendon was always too friendly when he smoked.   
Brendon’s phone buzzed again, he still refused to check it. He wanted to fall asleep and start the day over. Instead, he could remember the night before when everyone went to lay down leaving just Brendon and Ryan outside his house. He remembered chain smoking with Ryan, reminiscing.   
“Do you remember our first show? Our first really big show? And how I fucked up the first progression of London Beckoned which caused Spencer to go off somehow and everything seemed to go completely wrong after that?” Ryan asked laughing. Brendon was laughing, too.   
“And how I thought I could sing high notes?”   
“You still think you can.” Ryan teased. Brendon gave him a light punch.   
“Shut up, Ross. I wanted to be Gwen Stefani.”   
The night was hot, and it was probably four in the morning but neither of them cared. Brendon could remember the two actually enjoying themselves. Something he didn’t think he was capable of. It was ruined by that morning anyway.   
Brendon was almost asleep when someone walked into his room.  
“Go away, Pete.” The singer mumbled, not bothering to look up.   
“It’s me.” Ryan’s voice crushed Brendon’s chest. He didn’t want to deal with this anymore. Brendon didn’t say anything. “I don’t think we were done.” Ryan said again, his voice closer now. Brendon sat up.   
“I was.” He said, not meeting Ryan’s eyes.   
“You kissed me, Bren.” Brendon rolled his eyes. Of course he did. He was drunk and Ryan was fucking Ryan.   
“Well it didn’t mean shit.” Ryan sat on his bed. Brendon didn’t say anything, the guy fucking slept there last night. Next to Brendon. His sheets smelled like Ryan. Or at least, not like Sarah. Brendon could feel how close Ryan was. The heat off the other man’s skin, Brendon tried to scoot away, but Ryan’s hand was on his, stopping him. Brendon looked up. Ryan’s eyes were firm.   
“I’m not trying to get between anything. I get it, we were fucked up.”  
“And you invited yourself to my house after texting me out of nowhere.” Brendon finished, but didn’t try to move his hand away.   
“There’s stuff you’re clearly not over.” Ryan let his hand go, Brendon’s finger twitched. They were right next to each other.   
“Do you want to hear that you fucked me up, Ryan? Is that why you texted me?” Brendon couldn’t stop himself, Ryan always did this. He always took the upper hand and Brendon would let him have it. He could almost see a smirk on Ryan’s lips.   
“I think you needed to hear it.” He said, leaning in, his lips pressing against Brendon’s.   
Brendon kissed back. Of course he fucking kissed back. Ryan Ross was a goddamn relapse. This was too familiar, Brendon’s mouth opening for Ryan’s, his hands going straight to Ryan’s back. The older man’s tongue trailed across Brendon’s bottom lip and Brendon relinquished all control.   
After Ryan had left, Brendon thought he had changed. That he was more focused, meaner, and definitely jaded. But in the current position he was a kid fresh out of high school making out with his best friend again. Sure there were some differences, Ryan didn’t have to show off anymore. And the way his own hands moved down Brendon’s bare chest, he seemed a lot more desperate than he was showing. Brendon however, was just as bad. He let out a moan against Ryan’s lip, already feeling the tightness of his erection. Ryan Ross had that effect.   
Brendon laid himself back on the bed, giving Ryan more access to Brendon’s skin. Ryan of course, utilized it. The older man’s lips moved off of Brendon’s lips down his neck and chest. Brendon’s fingers moved through Ryan’s hair, now embracing the familiarity of the chemistry. Neither of them had really changed, or being around one another just made it feel like that. Brendon couldn’t tell.   
“Do you remember any of this now?” Ryan asked him as his mouth moved around Brendon’s nipple. The singer shivered, tightening his grip in Ryan’s hair. He nodded.   
“I remember kissing you.” He admitted, not wanting the contact however to stop. The kiss wasn’t innocent. Brendon could remember thinking about it all night. Looking too much at Ryan’s mouth, remembering how it felt.   
They were alone when Brendon made the move the night before.   
“Come upstairs with me.” Brendon had asked when the sun was starting to rise. Ryan’s head was shaking.  
“I think you’re married.” Was his response. Ryan was on Brendon’s level of drunk at that point. Brendon shrugged.   
“She might get it.” He said before pressing his lips to Ryan’s.   
If Brendon weren’t in the same position currently, he might have been mad at himself. But all his thoughts went to was Ryan’s mouth on his body. Ryan grinning as Brendon admitted remembering the night before. The older man’s hands moved up Brendon’s thigh, groping his cock.   
“Fuck.” Brendon breathed out before he had a chance to stop himself. He just pulled tighter on Ryan’s hair.   
“I missed this.” Ryan whispered, eyes not meeting Brendon’s, but looking down at the younger man’s stomach. Brendon just nodded. It was true, no matter how much he tried to ignore it, or deny it to anyone who asked about Ryan Ross. But here he was, groping his crotch admitting shit that might have saved the two of them years ago.   
Brendon pulled Ryan closer, kissing his lips again. He could hear Ryan hum into his mouth as he slipped his hand underneath Brendon’s waistband. Ryan’s hands on his cock wasn’t something Brendon every fully forgot the experience of, but having it happen again in person did the memories little justice. Ryan stroked the base of Brendon’s cock slowly, teasing him. Brendon’s hips were already arching to meet Ryan’s rhythm. Brendon moaned again.   
“Ryan,” He whined, the name too familiar on his tongue. Ryan took his mouth off Brendon’s lips again and he could see Ryan smirk. Brendon could’ve came then from that look alone. The singer almost felt sorry for himself until Ryan picked up his pace. Brendon wasn’t really sure how long he could last. He wasn’t sure how far the two of them would even go. Brendon realized it wasn’t really up to him. It never usually was.   
“Can I suck you off?” Ryan asked and Brendon’s eyes widened. Was that even a fucking question?   
“Fuck, yes.” The younger man breathed out, tugging again on Ryan’s hair.   
Ryan smirked again. “I didn’t get to last night.” Was all he said before positioning himself lower on the bed, lapping his tongue onto Brendon’s cock. Fuck his mouth, Brendon’s hips arched again.   
Brendon still couldn’t remember how far the two of them took it last night, but he thought he would’ve remembered this. The feeling of Ryan’s cheeks hollowing as he took Brendon in. Brendon never let go of Ryan’s hair.   
“That feels- fuck Ryan you feel so good.” Brendon whined, trying his best not to fuck Ryan’s mouth too hard. He felt desperate, needing more and more of Ryan’s mouth as the older man’s tongue worked around the tip of Brendon’s cock.   
Ryan’s hand moved to stroke what his mouth couldn’t get while his other hand trailed across Brendon’s thighs, leaving his nails digging into the skin just sharp enough to drive Brendon’s crazy. Somehow or another, Ryan had gotten better at this. Brendon was curious to how many other men Ryan had been with since Brendon, but the onset of his orgasm wasn’t the best time.   
Brendon’s body was shaking as he felt his release build in the pit of his stomach. “I’m gonna come,” Brendon tried to warn, but Ryan just pressed his nails harder into the younger man’s skin. Brendon took that as an okay as he bucked his hips harder, fucking more of Ryan’s mouth. He was too fucking close and he needed more contact. Ryan didn’t seem to mind, keeping his mouth open and his lips on Brendon’s cock. Brendon couldn’t help but to look down, his eyes meeting Ryan’s, who looked nearly as satisfied as Brendon felt. That causing Brendon to lose it. “Ryan.” He moaned his name one last time before finishing in the other’s mouth, following with a trail of expletives. Brendon forgot how loud he could be, and didn’t even think to register if anyone else was around listening. He didn’t care at the moment though, watching Ryan swallow his come as his tongue stayed on Brendon’s dick.   
Brendon let out a few heavy breaths after he came, trying to pull Ryan back up to him. Ryan complied, wiping off his mouth and moving to lay on Brendon’s chest. Fuck.   
“I guess I needed that.” Brendon admitted, unsure of what exactly he meant. Ryan didn’t respond, he just trailed his fingers down Brendon’s chest. They laid there like that for a while, Brendon might have fallen asleep at one point. But he could feel Ryan there the entire time.   
The singer wasn’t ready to come back to reality, to acknowledge that he cheated on his wife with the man that broke his heart however many years ago. He was content for the time being, enjoying hearing Ryan breathe on his chest. The blowjob also helped with Brendon’s hangover, even more than the coffee he didn’t get to drink.   
Eventually, Brendon willed his eyes open and ruffled Ryan’s hair. The older man’s eyes opened but his expression stayed blank.   
“Cigarette?” Brendon asked him, Ryan just nodded, letting himself off of Brendon. Brendon actually put on a shirt this time as he walked outside his bedroom, Ryan trailing behind him. They remained close but not touching. His living room was less crowded than before, half the party had dispersed, the other half actually cleaning up. Brendon was thankful but didn’t care much at that point. He locked eyes with Pete the moment he entered the room. He gave nothing away however, just grabbed the cigarettes from where he had left them and walked with Ryan outside the house.   
Ryan might have had his own cigarettes, but Brendon handed him one anyway. The two of them both lit up and smoked in the same silence as earlier that morning.   
“Let’s not go three years without talking again.” Brendon finally said, Ryan looked up. It didn’t mean let’s blow each other or get so shit faced we make out all night. But it meant something. Ryan nodded.   
“I can agree to that.” He gave Brendon a soft smile before taking a drag of his cigarette. Brendon returned it, unsure of what else to say.   
“I should probably head soon, though.” Ryan spoke again. “I need to feed my dog.” Brendon laughed. He wasn’t surprised.   
“I need to call my wife.” Brendon admitted, Ryan’s face gave nothing away. He wasn’t sure what to say, if anything. He wasn’t sure what anything meant. Ryan eventually just nodded, finishing up his cigarette.   
“It was good to see you, Bren.” Ryan said, dropping his cigarette to the floor and stepping on it. Brendon followed suit.   
“Yeah, you too Ry.” He smiled. Ryan didn’t hug him, just gave the other man a wave as he walked to his car from the backyard. Fucking Ryan Ross.   
Brendon lit up another cigarette, still unsure of pretty much everything. But he knew that needed to get out of his system. He needed to get Ryan out of his system. But Ryan Ross had a way of creeping back in.   
Pete joined him outside, a look of curiosity in his eye.   
“So what the fuck happened?” He asked, this time not asking Brendon to smoke.   
Brendon just shrugged, but couldn’t help the smirk on his lips as he watched Ryan’s car take off.


End file.
